


Android Goretober 2018

by VisceraTea (KittenBloodCoffee)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blue Blood, Broken nose, Dismemberment, Dissociation, Gen, Hurt, Injury, Mild Self Harm, Near Death Experiences, No Beta, Pain, Tears, Trojan Horse, Virus, android goretober 2018, android guts, be warned most chapters will have, blood from nose, challenge, corrupt coding, exposed wires, no resolve, open abdomen, wire pulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 14:25:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16243502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenBloodCoffee/pseuds/VisceraTea
Summary: This is a collection of fics from the goretober challenge set in the server I'm in.Discontinued, sorry.





	1. Trojan Horse

“a Trojan horse, or Trojan, is any malicious computer program which misleads users of its true intent.”

Things were hectic at the DPD, with a large crew of DPD officers working on a case to track down who is in charge of a self-proclaimed crime syndicate who carry out organised crime, mostly against androids, Hank had claimed that all the anti-android activists had banded together and the longer the case went on, the more it seemed like it was the case. 

The majority of the DPD had spent weeks,  _ or at least it felt it,  _ on this case, desperately trying to figure out who was behind all these crimes before riots broke loose throughout the city, they could only shield the truth from civilians for so long. 

It was nearing the end of the day, Hank was already shutting down his desktop opposite Connor and organising his piles of paperwork which had gathered through the course of this case, which only got messed up again as an excited cry startled him into knocking his papers to the floor,  _ further away from their original destination, hmph. _

Hank looks up from the now scattered papers to the source of the sound, Connor. Of course,e it was Connor. 

Connor was stood at his desk pointing as his monitor, like an excited child may do when they’re about to show you something they find mystifying,  _ yet as an adult, you don’t feel the same way.  _

“Lieutenant!” Connor exclaimed in an almost childish awe which fit perfectly with the sight hank just saw “come look at this I think I’ve found something!”

Despite being able to easily transfer the file to his own computer, Hank jumps up from his chair at his desk and rounds to the other side to see what has gotten Connor so worked up, Hank felt excitement and anxiety at the idea that they were finally moving somewhere on the case. Hank peered at the monitor, and what greeted him appeared to be senseless jargon. Different article, shreds of evidence, sites of crimes, as well as notes made by Connor himself, was shown on the screen, it may make sense to Connor but to anyone else, it certainly did not. 

“So what exactly am I looking at here?” Hank asked enthusiasm melting away with each word

“I think I know where their base of operations is! We just need to look into who owns the place and-“

“Ok, I’m going to have to stop you there.” Hank cuts him off “look, even you need to rest so I suggest you type up what you have now and share it so others can look into it and we can pick it back up again tomorrow.”

“Yes, ok lieutenant, give me a minute and we can head home.” Connor agreed, Hank was admittedly shocked that Connor had agreed to go straight away, he must be more tired than he first thought. 

The trip home was a quiet one, Hank had left his stereo off after a headache had blossomed behind his eyes from staring at his monitor all day and Connor quietly looked out of the window as the scenery whizzed by, after a while, Hank decided to speak up “is something bothering you son? You seem quiet.”

Connor glanced at Hank before looking out of the window again, he spoke in a level tone “no liu- Hank. Perplexed is all, I received a message with an attachment not long after we left the precinct and the attachment was empty.”

“Do you know who the sender was?” Hank was tangibly concerned. 

“No, I do not.”

“You haven’t gotten yourself a fuckin’ computer virus have you?”

“No. My security is state of the art and one of a kind Hank.” Connor snapped

They lapsed into silence as their journey home continued. 

It had been a couple days since the incident in the car, the investigation carried on in a renewed vigour now they started to gain some leads, albeit with Connor being snappier than usual, however, no one took notice of this as everyone had something they had to be working on. 

Then Gavin stormed in. He was waving around a piece of paper shouting “Hey! Plastic, have you looked into this guy yet?”

Connor calmly looked up and responded in an almost uncharacteristically dangerous tone “who, Detective?”

Gavin flapped the paper round more frantically “this guy who rents the building you reckon is their main base! An uh, Emmitt Hunt I believe- ack!”

In a blink of an eye, Connor had gripped Gavin by the throat, fear seized in his thirium pump, what was happening? He wasn’t doing this. 

Connor desperately tried to fight whatever was making his body act against his will, his attempts were fruitless as it seemed like someone was remotely controlling his body. 

He watched as his own arm lifted Gavin’s body off of the floor and his own hand start to crush Gavin’s neck without any input of his own, he tried and failed to release Gavin, to lower his arm, anything but all he managed to do was make his uncontrolled movements more jarring and sporadic, what was happening to him?

He vaguely became aware of the shouting that was happening around him, was that Hank?

He desperately wanted to call out to him, tell him his movements were not his own but his jaw felt stiff, tongue heavy in his mouth. 

He became aware of how much pressure was on Gavin’s neck, how weak and meagre his attempts to become. He didn’t want to be responsible for the death of Gavin Reed, not at all. 

His systems were starting to struggle against something, processes starting to shut down, struggling against the weight of the unconscious man aloft before him, he vision started to glitch with warnings he didn’t understand the origin of, however, he was endlessly glad that this would be over soon. 

With a great deal of effort he managed to make his own head turn down to see why there were so many errors in his vision, oh, that’s why. 

His torso was plastered in blue blood, his own blue blood, whoever had taken the shot must’ve had an incredible aim considering every shot missed his vital systems as well as Gavin. He was losing blue blood at an alarming rate which came as a relief to Connor due to the fact he wanted this to be over. 

His head felt fuzzy like it was full of cotton, he wasn’t sure what colours his led had been displaying throughout this situation but his sure it must be circling a distressed red now. 

He felt his body crumple to the floor along with Gavin who fell like a sack of potatoes, but he was alive and safe that’s all that matters now. 

The world around him faded to dark as his synthetic body finally succumbed to the thirium loss. 


	2. Dismembered

Connor arose from stasis, head throbbing in an uncomfortable feeling he presumed was similar to that of pain in humans, he slowly became aware as his processors slowly caught up with his bodily sensations. 

Did he feel almost, tired and heavy? Like his body wanted to go back into stasis yet his unnerved mind would not allow this. 

He eventually managed to muster up the energy to take in his surroundings in an attempt to figure out what happened to him. 

He felt thirium trickling down his temple towards his hairline, whatever had happened must’ve involved him losing his led at some point, he’s not sure how though. The thirium on his face helps him to orientate himself, however. 

 

For the first time since gaining consciousness he realised that he was in fact tied down to a cold, hard metal table, after a quick scan Connor made note of the large quantity of thirium 310 which was dried onto the table which he was lying in, unpleasant however this was merely the least of his worries at this moment in time. 

Connor lifted his head up from the cold, hard table, he dragged his eyes from the questionably dirty ceiling to his right, what he saw he wasn’t sure if he had expected or not considering his current situation.

There were various tools strewn across the floor as if whoever had used them weren’t ready to clear up just quite yet, behind all the tools was a dusty old generator against the brick wall, however, next to the generator was a bloodied android torso, the android's arms and legs were completely gone, upon further analysis Connor concluded that the android’s limbs were forced out due to the damage was done to the synthetic sockets and the torn thirium lines hanging limply from the gaping holes in the android’s torso.

 

Taking in a shuddering breath, Connor swooped his gaze to the wall nearest to his feet, there, against the wall stood a grimy steel workbench, it looked like it could be straight from an operating theatre that had just finished their work without cleaning it for years considering how much red and thirium was caked onto the bench, a lot of the blue blood seemed fresh, Connor couldn’t imagine how much more blue blood would be on said bench if he scanned for dried thirium.

Upon the revolting workbench lay tools which had faired no better against the grime, the tools, however, were lined up neatly and appeared to be operating tools you would expect to find in a human surgery procedure, whoever had laid these tools out must have had a career in the medical profession at some point in time, funnily enough Connor slightly doubted that was still the case now.

Finally, moving his head to the left, as he couldn’t move his head enough to see what was above his head from this position, he scouted the final side of the room which he could see, there were old cardboard boxes in messy piles dotted sporadically across the floor, many of the boxes looked like they had been sodden at one point, Connor did care much for the detail of  _ why _ that was the case. He noticed what appeared to be the missing android limbs peeking out from behind a box, the floor beneath the pile had a tasteful puddle of thirium below it, and yet another android torso was propped against the wall, it was in a similar state as the first however this particular android had sustained a large amount of damage to the cranium, in that their skull seemed to have been smashed in some kind of fit of rage.

The final aspect of the room was what seemed to be an old rickety and harmless rocking chair, for their kidnapper watch them squirm and suffer no doubt.

 

Just as he finished scanning the room, coincidentally he heard a door somewhere above his head being thrown open and a set of footsteps stomping presumably down a set of stairs. Connor’s thirium pump fluttered in fear as the steps came closer to the table where Connor was restrained, Connor internally chanted ‘ _androids do not feel fear, merely_ _simulate it’_ as a means to keep himself calm in his current situation, he could not even remember how he ended up here, let alone where he was. 

The footsteps slowly made their way into Connor’s field of view and he immediately scanned the person, his mind palace provided him with the information that he was looking at 64-year-old Adrian Baker, a former surgeon, suspected in dealing red ice, ah that must be why he was here, investigating the red ice allegations on the ex-surgeon.

Adrian spoke up as he stalked further around the table “Oh, we’re going to have fun you and I. Can’t have such a pristine little police android waltzing out of here in one piece now can we?”

A fresh spike of fear rolled through Connor’s gut, if he wasn’t sure before, he’s now well and truly sure that he’ll lucky if he escapes in one piece. 

“Why are you doing this? You’re only going to make it worse for yourself in the long run” Connor attempted to reason to buy himself some valuable time. 

“Ah, you know full well why. You, androids, you, machines! Have taken over jobs we humans were perfectly capable of carrying out! So, I entertain myself pulling you androids limb from limb and in the process make room for us humans in the job market.”

Connor pulled at his restraints in an attempt to loosen them however they had not given for him to even think about that being a viable option. 

 

Adrian made his way to his workbench and started to tinker with the tools on his workbench, he let out a satisfied hum before turning to face Connor with some kind of modified clamp in his hand, he approached the android slowly thriving in Connor’s fear, once at Connor’s side the ex-surgeon attached the makeshift clamp to his shoulder, the lower half of the clamp attached to his arm, both parts holding a painful pressure which made him squirm. 

“Adrian Baker, you don’t want to do this, you’re only making things worse for yourself,” Connor stated in the steadiest tone his voice modulator would allow. 

Adrian let a sick smile creep up onto his ageing features before admitting “oh, but I do.”

 

Before Connor was able to say anything else Adrian began to twist something on the makeshift clamp device, a straining pressure was added to the joint at his shoulder. Another twist, more pressure, the pressure slowly causing his synthetic flesh to melt away where the majority of the tension was being applied, this went on until Connor could feel the joint being pulled out of place, the jarring crunching of the joint making him cry out but the process did not stop. The crunching and grinding sensation were accompanied by a tearing sensation as his thirium lines started to rip, at this point Connor couldn’t be sure if he was screaming or not but he was acutely aware of the thirium welling up within the cracks of his plastisteel shell, starting to flow down his arm. 

Another twist, more crunching, grinding and an increase in the flow of thirium, another twist and his joint popped from the socket, plastisteel casing and thirium lines snapping at the sudden give due to the joint, thirium flow freely where his arm used to be attached. 

Connor sobbed openly as he tried to curl up to hold his damaged arm socket, only to be denied by the restraints on his remaining limbs, empty socket brushing into the arm that used to be attached to his body. He wasn’t sure how much he could take of this, he wanted to be back home with Hank, on the sofa with Sumo engulfing his lap in his large body. 

 

_ He wanted to be anywhere but here.  _

 

The clamp was released from his shoulder, the release in pressure causing thirium to pump more readily onto the table rather than his arm which was being tossed by Adrian onto the floor. 

The ex-surgeon leant over Connor, a sick smile plastered onto his face as he began to attach the clamp to Connor’s other shoulder. 

 

Connor didn’t know how he was going to get out of this one. 


	3. Corrupt coding

Connor felt like he had been doing something, he stood upright in the middle of a room, there was a sofa behind his legs as if he had just stood up from said piece of furniture, in front of him lay a large brown and white dog, a St. Bernard Connor concludes after a hasty scan. 

Underfoot sits a large multicoloured striped rug that looked like it’d seen better days, however, was generally looked after, in front of him sat a screen of which portrayed some drama playing mindlessly and forgot in the background. 

He brought his hand up to his head as the bright screen of the television made him aware of the pained simulation landing through his skull, had that pain always been there?

What was he doing?

 

images which were not the screen floated through his mind, they were cold, freezing cold they were so cold he could almost feel the phantom chills, swirling blizzard winds threatening to blow him further into the freezing abyss, he had faint memories of disappointment, betrayal, anger, fear, all tangible and dark swirling darkly in his mind, there was someone else in the biting cold and they were the source of the negative emotions, suddenly fear, twisting and fluttering as the cold melted away with something else he couldn’t quite place. 

 

He looked down at the colourful rug underfoot, had that been there before? He wasn’t sure. 

He head wavered, optics cutting out for a second as his processors tried desperately to keep up, at that moment his systems decided to conveniently to display an error message in the corner of his eye. 

 

—

**Warning:**

 

**Hard drives compromised, contact cyberlife for repairs**

**—**

 

His hard drives were damaged?

How did that happen?

His thoughts flitted away as he tried to access the cloud to download backup memory files however in return he merely got an error message stating that a connection could not be made, after the 5th attempt he gave up and merely stood in the same spot that he had not moved from. 

 

His head felt like an empty mush, staring blankly at the floor as his optics focused and unfocused rhythmically as he awaited orders to carry out, his auditory processors sounded almost as if they were underwater, any sounds that attempted to enter his head became muffled and fluctuated sounding similar to that of shifting water, maybe he should just power down, had his activation been an accident?

 

Where was he?

_ Who was he? _

What was going on?

 

He slowly became aware of a hand upon his shoulder and he allowed his eyes to find the source of the hand, a scan revealed that the owner of the hand was lieutenant Hank Anderson, had he heard that name before? Surely not. 

He noticed that the lieutenant’s mouth was moving, speaking to him, so he forced himself to listen. 

“Son, Connor, are you ok?” The Lieutenant looked worried, Connor did not under why, however. 

 

“Lieutenant Hank Anderson, I believe we haven’t met before?”


	4. Open abdomen

In the months which Hank knew Connor, Hank had reduced the amount of time he spent drinking at the local bar, mostly because Connor was a walking robo disaster who’d probably get himself killed if he was left alone too long. 

At least Hank had told himself, it wasn’t because Connor stuck by his side like a poodle, not at all. 

 

Tonight, however, was one of those nights he did find himself drinking so that he didn’t have to feel the emotions he felt during his low moods, Connor by his side content while reading a magazine while silently checking every so often that had hadn’t footed himself dangerously drunk. 

The atmosphere was almost warm and content, Hank calling the bartender over occasionally for a top up, other patrons dotted around tables laid methodically throughout the premise, chatter and banter floating throughout the air, glasses clinking, all warping into a background hums in everyone’s minds. 

 

Well, that was until a glass slammed down onto the counter next to Hank. 

It was clear that the owner of the glass was heavily inebriated, more so than Hank, his was a man whom of which was a similar age as Hank, dark shaggy hair roughly tied back as to keep it out of his face, his face was littered with scars as if they enjoy participating in a good fight. 

Connor scanned the man, LED flickering yellow for a second while he accessed his files, 57-year-old Rowan Giles, a previous criminal record for arson which left him in prison for 4 years at the age of 23. 

Once he had finished collecting information on the noisy patron nearby he simply watched and waited in the hopes that he would stumble away and leave the partners in peace. 

 

If only it were that simple. 

“Ha-nk Anderson” the man drawled, a look of disgust quirked his lips downwards, Hank, clearly not in the mood for confrontation remained looking down at the counter and remained silent. 

“Donnn- fuckin’ ignore me!” The man bit 

Hank sighed “what do you want?” Connor noted that he sounded soberer than what he was expecting however he decided to intervene nonetheless due to the fact that the man was causing a scene and all the other patrons had long forgotten their drinks to gawp at the scene unfolding before them. 

 

Connor smoothly rose from his stool and calmly approached the angry man “Mr Giles,” he spoke in a calm level time “I believe it’s about time you left.”

Rowan whipped around to Connor and looked as if his eyes were ready to pop from his skull “who the fuck’re you? You don’t under-rstand!” As expected the level of comprehension within his sentences were minimal due to the high levels of intoxication,

“Rowan-“ Connor tried again but the man snapped before Connor could finish his sentence 

“No! Hank, gotta pay for- for betraying me!”

“Ok, let me help you up.” Connor offered, he moved to help Rowan to his feet, placing a hand on his shoulder he started to turn the man towards him so he could help him leave without falling over. 

 

Connor then heard a smash, then a noise that suddenly strangely akin to synthetic flesh and what lay beneath tearing. 

His body stumbled backwards before he could register what was happening to him, tripping and stumbling backwards, he lost his footing and he was certain his LED was fluttering red as he fell and smacked his head off of the corner of the table. His processors tried their very best to cope with the sudden stress and damage to his systems before forcing him into temporary stasis and the world grew dark. 

 

When Connor woke from stasis the whole world seemed fuzzy, tilting and just pure painful to exist at that moment in time, his head held a large pressure which ebbed in and out from the blow of which had knocked him out,  _ unsurprisingly _ . 

Without bothering to open his eyes he attempted to roll onto his side, only to be stopped by a heavy pressure which sent white-hot lancing pain through his abdomen,  _ thanks cyberlife and their updates to make androids feel more human.  _

He let a groan and opened his glad, immensely grateful for the dim lighting in the room thanks to his head injury, wait, where was he? The last thing he remembered was being at the bar, and where was Hank?

He waited for his processors to attempt to focus his optics and soon enough he found both Hank and the source of the pressure in one fell swoop, well, one sluggish eye movement to be more precise. 

His auditory processors decided to kick in at that moment to catch the end of Hank’s worry filled sentence “-gonna be ok son” 

“Where-“ Connor started and before he could finish his question Hank was already answering him

“At home, don’t worry I got you.”

Connor sighed, so he must currently be leaking thirium onto Hank’s couch. 

 

Connor lifted his hands up to gently move Hank’s hands away from the wound on his abdomen so he could assess the damage for himself, Hank relented but not before telling him that he’d gotten all the fresh thirium bags in the house nearby for when he needed them. Connor gently mumbled his gratitude before he got to work on his throbbing wound, hands wavering as apprehension rolled over him, but it had to be done. 

 

Once Hank’s hands were gone he could finally see the extent of the damage done, the wound stretched from the bottom of where a human’s rib cage would be all the way to the opposite side just above the hip, the glass he’d been attacked with had narrowly skimmed his thirium pump regulator however it had not been compromised, in fact, he was lucky enough that none of his essential biocomponents had not been compromised, a miracle really considering the state of his abdomen. The angry jagged line had sliced through some of the softer materials used in the construction of his shell exposing his inner workings and thirium lines, some of said thirium lines had been severed by the sharp glass. 

To Hank’s horror Connor dug his hands straight into the wound after allowing his synthetic flesh melt away from his front, he parted his ruined shell which his self-healing program undoubtedly fix later on and set about helping his healing program to reattach his severed thirium lines before his thirium levels became critical. 

His breathing stuttered as the pain felt like it was lancing throughout the hole of his body with each small movement and one by agonising one he managed to attach all his thirium lines. 

Shakily he pushed his shell somewhat together before flopping back onto Hank’s couch and attempted to breathe slowly as to not jostle his abdomen. 

 

Hank handed Connor a couple thirium bags to top up his supply and knowing Hank wouldn’t let him rest until he had Connor downed as much he needed until his thirium levels were at the maximum. 

He huffed and let his eyes drift shut  before stasis could take hold of him he heard Hank say

“I don’t think I’ll be going there again, thank god you’re ok Son.”

 

Connor half awake mumbled “yeah, thanks dad…” before stasis took him so his self-repair program could finish the job. 

 


	5. Blood from the nose/mouth

Saying that Gavin was unhappy to be partnered up with Connor’s ‘successor’, RK900, was an understatement, he was livid. 

Some part of his mind told him that deviant androids were scarily human-like however the louder, more irrational part of his brain told him that he wasn’t good enough and Fowler had decided he needed assistance, from a machine no less.

Obviously, there was no way of getting out of this, however, he could make life as awkward as possible for everyone involved.

 

For the first few days, the detective had decided to not make a scene as he had with Connor simply because he was pretty sure both Hank and Connor would have his guts for garters if he did,  _ it wasn’t because he’d felt bad after punching Connor.  _

So he went about blanking the RK900 model, or Nines as he had dubbed himself, however he was so goddamn perfect and good at his job even without communication and it made the detective’s blood boil, he knew he was being awful and he should get over this but he just felt anger rise in his throat when Nines was commended while he was reprimanded. 

He knew he should be civil and not cause a scene.

 

Then Gavin found himself alone in the breakroom with Nines. Nines was making himself a mug of warmed thirium, the machine was a new implementation since the revolution and was basically a thirium designated water heater, he wasn’t sure how anyone could find comfort in drinking heated blood however who was he to talk considering his blood and this point probably  _ was _ coffee,  _ that may be all he drinks but it’s good ok? _

Nines was floating around the kitchen with that perfect body, perfect coordination, smooth and perfect in every way and it was getting on Gavin’s wick, dumb machines being crafted to be perfect.

The detective not only had a short temper, but he also lacked a brain to mouth filter which can get him into a whole load of trouble. 

 

So naturally, he’s spewing the words “Oi, toaster bring me a coffee.” before he can realise quite what he had said, Nines turned to him and walked over from the counter to the table Gavin was leaning on, Nines kept that level face and scarily even tone which Gavin hated so much and said “What was that, Detective?” 

Gavin huffed suddenly determined to carry this out “You heard me, bring me a coffee, dipshit.” 

Nines remained calm and unperturbed and replied with “Detective, it appears there’s nothing wrong with your own legs so may I suggest that you get your own coffee? I’m not your personal coffee maker Gavin.” A small smirk quirked the corner of Nines’ mouth as if he seemed rather pleased with his own comeback. 

Gavin probably would’ve been pretty impressed too if his temper hadn’t snapped, a sudden uncontrollable anger lodged itself in his gut and wanted out, he was so angry and full of so much caffeine that he felt like his eyes could vibrate out of his skull, before he could realise what he was doing his fist suddenly collided into Nines’ nose, a loud crunch bounced through the otherwise silent room, whether it was fist, nose or both that had caused the sound had not yet been registered as they both stood, almost in shock just staring at each other.

 

He watched as blue blood started oozing from Nines nose and the slow realisation of what had just happened unfurl on Nines’ face, his brow started to furrow in pain, LED flickering red as tears welled up in his eyes from the said pain. Gavin suddenly felt sick, it wasn’t because of the pain that felt as if was lancing up throughout his whole arm,  _ androids had surprisingly hard faces,  _ but rather the guilt that flooded through him, what had he done? He’d gone and fucked it up as usual. Gavin felt like he couldn’t look at the damage he had done any more or else the guilt would make him throw up, he turned heel and suddenly exited the break room, each step sending a jolt of pain through his hand.

 

Nines stood stock still, glad that no one had yet entered the break room, he had never felt the sensation of pain before, a recent update which had claimed to help Android and human to become closer, however, he almost wished he wasn’t able to feel pain at that moment in time, the strong throbbing pain encompassed his face as if it was eating into his processors. The tears that flowed freely down his face only worsening his pain as his face reflexively scrunched up, the tears were not completely from the pain, he felt frustrated and hurt because he had genuinely tried to work with Gavin only to be shunted and even pushed down when he had stood up for himself.

Despite feeling this hurt, deep down he was still determined to get Gavin to work with him even if it meant having a few more broken noses.

Nines left for the bathroom to clear up the blood running down his face and by the time he left, thanks to his advanced healing program, his nose had healed and only ached.

 

After the incident in the breakroom, Nines hadn’t seen Gavin for a few days, presumably, temporarily suspended for the incident, the next time Nines saw his partner it was a week later as he sat broodingly at his desk opposite him while nursing a coffee in one hand, the other hand which had punched him was marred with angry bruising and swelling, indicating the potential of having broken something,  _ ironic,  _ thought Nines yet he knew he’d have to approach him about it later to get it seen to.

At some point Nines had left for a mere 5 minutes to fetch a hot mug of thirium from the break room when he returned he noticed something different sitting on his desk, as he drew nearer his noticed it was a small plant pot, inside the pot sat a small healthy succulent, leaves a deep green with red tips, the pot was a deep blue and had a crack running down the side of it imbued in gold as if the pot had been restored which gave it a special sense of charm. Beside the pot sat a post-it note with words scrawled on it, it read ‘sorry for breaking your nose.’

 

Nines smiled, maybe he’d get to work with Gavin as proper partners sooner than he thought.


	6. Exposed wires

He had messed up, messed up bad. 

A simple case gone awry had ended with copious amounts of blood and tears after a desperate attempt to escape the law resulted in Connor losing an arm and the suspects getting away. 

 

Despite being forced to take a ‘medical’ leave the android detective felt like he was being punished for failing, for messing up an easy case. 

His shoulder port ached fiercely, why cyberlife implemented a pain simulation program after the revolution escapes him as it wasn’t a pleasant sensation whatsoever. The technician who had attended to his wound had turned off the blood flow however they claimed it’d be easier to leave the cables and connectors hanging out as they were,  _ something about easier installation as they’d have to make a model specific arm replacement.  _

The irrational part of his deviant brain wanted to make life awkward for the technician by insisting they fit the old arm back on however he wasn’t sure if he had verbalised these complaints or not after vaguely registering someone mentioning about the connections being ripped out of the arm itself, after being pried from his body, was simply impossible as the original arm would never gain full functionality. 

Connor knew he was lucky that he wasn’t beaten to an inch of his life but at this point, he almost wished he wasn’t such a deviant RK800 model, parts were hard to come by considering he was a prototype.

_ A high fidelity prototype who wasn’t meant to fail.  _

 

Once he was allowed to leave the technician’s office he was guided home by Hank who had somehow managed to convince Fowler to give consent for him to take a short leave so he could assist Connor until his replacement arm arrived. 

_ He shouldn’t need to be looked after, it was his fault he was in this state after all.  _

 

_ He wasn’t worth Hank’s time.  _

 

Once the pair arrived home Connor headed straight for Hank’s sofa and allowed himself to let the world around him fade out,  _ dissociation humans would call it, but he’s an android so that’s not possible.  _

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there not thinking nor moving but as time escaped him, the ebb in his shoulder increased tenfold. 

_ But surely he deserved this? _

_ He’d fucked it this time.   _

_ He didn’t need the time off he was an android, they must be punishing him for being the useless android he was.  _

 

_ Useless.  _

 

He slowly rose from the sofa, he thinks Hank says something but he can’t make out the words, he felt like he didn’t have the energy to find out what Hank had said and let his legs numbly carry him down the hall towards the bathroom, and stopped in front of the mirror. 

 

_ Completely useless.  _

 

Connor’s eyes drifted to the sleeve on his shirt, the empty sleeve that his arm used to fill, the next few minutes he spent fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and once done he let it fall to the floor in a heap. 

The android assessed the ugly gaping socket where his arm once was, cables and thirium lines spilling out of the socket and hanging uselessly at his side. 

 

Drawing in a shuddering breath,  _ an unnecessary synthetic breath,  _ he turned and allowed himself to drop to the floor with his back to the bath. 

_ He failed letdown, a good for nothing. He doesn’t deserve to not suffer.  _

The hand he still had drawn up and ghosted over the exposed wires, sending sharp aching electrical impulses shooting through him. 

 

_ He deserves this.  _

_ He deserves to suffer.  _

 

Connor gripped onto the wires and pulled at them, the sharp agonising pain is welcome and fresh against the aching pain he had felt, he pulled and pulled ignoring the creaks and pops from the wires, nor did he relent when thirium began to ooze from the port. 

 

_ Useless useless useless.  _

 

Something akin to nausea clawed at his throat as the creaking wires in his hand started to give way, blue blood flowing steadily and dripping onto the tiled floor, he didn’t care how much it hurt, he felt like this an acceptable punishment for failing in his mission. 

 

The wires suddenly gave way, blue blood flowing freely, relief washing through him as the pain felt like it was consuming him, it felt right. 

 

That was until a hand made its presence know on his shoulders, sad apologetic eyes observing him as nausea clawed back at his throat again, stomach feeling like it had suddenly had dropped as the fear gripped him while reality flooded back around him, the dripping of thirium suddenly too loud to his own ears, pain too much to bear and that look Hank was giving him. It was too much and it hurt. 

 

_ What had he done?  _


End file.
